


This Final Grace

by Barkour



Category: Green Lantern: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M, Gen, speculative fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To defeat the Manhunters, Aya is prepared to make a grave sacrifice. Can Razer make a sacrifice, too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Final Grace

**Author's Note:**

> 100% speculative fic based off what we know about the back half of the first season. I'd be surprised if anything in this thing happens to prove right (and if it does, that's what we call one heck of a coincidence). Warning for a single instance of the word "hell."

In the silence enveloping the Interceptor’s bridge, the static-torn holographic projection of the Manhunters, rising from the ashes of gutted Betrassus, flickered. They were all of them quiet, watching this play again, again, with the view screen and, through it, the stars its backdrop. The galaxy was quiet and lovely at such a distance, and the cerulean reach of a star-birthing nebula masked the presence of death. Razer had known the universe to be a cold and unloving place before. He knew it so again.

Aya touched a finger to her console. The projector winked out. She remained bent over her console, her exposed neck a sleek curl of green. Then she straightened and, turning, considered the crew. Her eyes flicked. She looked gravely to Razer; then away. Light refracted off her smooth helmet. She was, for a moment, limned and loved in the same cruel gleaming of the galaxy without the vessel.

Something hopeless and wanting yawned within Razer. Desperation gave it strength. In hours, they would all be dead. He wanted. In those last few hours allowed them all, he wanted to love.

Aya said, “The situation remains unchanged. We are outnumbered, and the Manhunters are preparing for a full assault on Oa.”

Kilowog swore and slammed his fist into the wall; he did it a second time, a third. “And what are we supposed to do, huh, Jordan?” Grief wrecked his face. Razer looked away.

When Hal spoke, he did so with a hand still in his hair, his eyes still lowered. “The rest of the Sapphires?”

“They and the remainder of the Red Lanterns are en route to Atrocitus’ Breach at the maelstrom.”

“Survivors?” Hal cleared his throat. He smoothed his hand down his face; his fingers cupped his chin. “Civilian survivors?”

Razer, his arms crossed before his chest, dug his claws into his upper arms. Anger, enflamed, burnt inside him. Sorrow guttered it.

“Unknown,” said Aya. She shone, still. A sadness ate at the corners of her mouth, yet the glow of her eyes was unchanged. Would the Manhunters strike her down, too? Or would they see in her kindred and spare her? She was not impartial; emotion tainted her.

They would all die. The Manhunters would see to that. Yet it hurt more to think of Aya, dead, than it did to consider his own death. Razer had wanted for death once. He supposed he could accept it again. But Aya.

“What can we do?” asked Razer.

He was looking at Aya. As he did so, she looked to him. Her face was clean. Her eyes were bright. She did not turn again, not from Razer. When her eyes moved, they moved across his face. Her eyelashes swept over her eyes; she hadn’t mastered individual lashes yet, and the thick line on each lid— A wildness was spilling inside Razer, a terrible, frantic desire to—to—

“Your orders?” Aya asked, softly.

Hal covered his face. His shoulders trembled once, and then he lowered his hands again.

“I’m all out of ideas,” he said to the viewing port. He was seeing, as Razer supposed they were all seeing, Betrassus in flames, Zamaron cracked, Mogo spitting rock into the darkness of space. “If anyone else has any, now’s the time to share.”

“We fight,” Kilowog said. His eyes were closed, his knuckles pressed hard into the wall. “We stand and we take down as many of them as come at us.”

“Retreat,” said Razer. He met Kilowog’s enraged growl head-on. “If we return to Oa we can consult with the other Lanterns. Perhaps we could formulate a strategy.”

“Walker and the other Blues are already coming to our position,” Kilowog snarled. “With them juicing our rings—”

“Juicing _your_ rings,” Razer cut him off. “With that many Blue Lanterns, I’m as good as useless. The same goes for any other Red Lanterns in the area. Do you really think taking some noble stand here will do anything more than delay the inevitable?”

Aya watched. The Interceptor’s movement had brought the nebula to bear behind her, so that Aya, white and green, glimmered blue along her pale curves. Hope, thought Razer in despair.

Hal was shaking his head. “We can’t risk losing any more lanterns.”

“So we run? Like a couple of cowards.” Kilowog rounded on them all. “We stand and fight, we can at least give the rest of ‘em time to figure something out.”

“There isn’t any time,” Razer countered. “We are officially out of time—”

“Poozer!” Kilowog took a step toward Razer. He loomed tremendously. “So, what, you wanna just give up?”

“A strategic retreat is not surrender,” snapped Razer, “or don’t you remember, _Sergeant_?”

“Enough!”

Hal’s constructs forced them apart. Razer was breathing savagely, with greater violence than he’d thought. Where was empathy? Hadn’t Razer lost Elana as Kilowog had lost Galea? Galea at least had been given the chance to fight, to stand her ground and see her killer torn by her hands. All Razer could think was that soon they would all be dead; soon, Aya would be dead. Nothing could change that.

“Enough,” said Hal again. “We definitely don’t have time for you two tearing into each other. Got it?” His voice rose. “Got it!”

“Stay out of my way,” Kilowog said in a low voice to Razer.

“That would be easier,” Razer said, “if you did not take up so much space.”

Kilowog made an abortive move forward, and Hal slammed Razer and Kilowog both to opposite sides of the bridge.

“ _Now!_ ” shouted Hal, and Kilowog growled, “Just let me—”

“I have a suggestion,” said Aya.

Her cool, even tones fell on them all. Hal looked to her, Kilowog too. Razer was last. He was thinking of Aya, her eyes dark, her metal parts empty of green as the construct that was her physical body failed. He was thinking there would be no last minute reprieve for any of them.

He could not bear looking at her, but he could not look away. It hurt too much to do so.

She continued: “If you would listen.”

“At this point,” said Hal tiredly, “I’ll hear anything. Shoot, kiddo.”

She tipped her head in concession. The little chewed-up corner of her mouth turned up. There had ever been a kindness between Aya and Hal, as of a daughter and a father. On Razer’s world, Hal, in his thirties, would have been considered unbearably old to be without a family. Perhaps this was his family. Perhaps this was all the family any of them had. Some of the pain in Razer eased.

Then Aya said, “My studies of the Manhunters’ programming suggests that we share a similar base coding.”

Razer straightened; he pushed off the wall. As he took his first step toward Aya, Hal said, “Meaning what?”

“No,” said Razer.

Aya glanced over at him, held his gaze, softened; but she did not cease. “Ganthet used a template derived from the same one used to design and program the Manhunters when he built me. Like my self and the Interceptor, they possess a shared information network unique to them. I believe that by plugging into an individual Manhunter, I can access that network.”

“Aya!” Razer came for her. His heart roared in his ears; he could not stop any more than she. “You can’t, you cannot do this—”

Temper so rarely got the best of her. Now, she sparked: “You cannot tell me what I can or cannot do. There is no other way. As a Green Lantern—”

“Did you not hear Jordan?” Razer gesticulated violently about the cabin, to Hal, to Kilowog, he didn’t care to whom. “We cannot risk any more losses!”

“Precisely why I must proceed,” said Aya with maddeningly focused ferocity. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of one. Logically—”

“Logic?” He was overheating. He felt it spooling off his skin, that red fire washing over him in waves. “What is logical about sacrificing yourself on an uncertainty?”

“There is a statistically negligible chance of failure,” Aya shot back.

“And of survival?”

“Survival is inessential,” said Aya.

“Whoa,” said Hal, bodily interjecting himself between the two of them. Razer clenched and unclenched his hands; his fingers ached, his flesh itched. Looking to Razer then to Aya, Hal said, “How about everybody just calms down a minute, huh? Either one of you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

Without once blinking, without once looking from Razer to Hal, Aya said, “Razer is placing emotion before reason.”

“What reason?” Razer breathed heavily. “There is no reason for sacrifice when you cannot even know if you’ll succeed.”

Aya stared at him and then, with cold functionality, she turned to Hal. “Lantern Jordan. I believe that I can infect the Manhunters with a replicating virus that will terminate their operating systems.”

Aya had looked away. Razer would not. He spoke out through his fangs:

“By using herself as the viral vector, she intends to infect them. She _believes_ she can infect them.”

“I have calculated the odds of failure,” Aya told Hal. “They are insignificant. I will succeed.”

“Well, great!” said Hal. He smiled reassuringly at them both. “So let’s do that then.”

Softly, cruelly, Razer said, “Aya neglects to tell you that she would sacrifice her consciousness to do this.”

Like a sickly flower, horror began to bloom in Hal’s masked face. On the far side of the bridge, Kilowog stirred. And yet, Aya did not relent. She was unapologetic.

“It is likely I would not survive,” she said. “The Manhunters were programmed with a rudimentary artificial intelligence, and I have never interacted with a massed consciousness. Joining with the collective could have severe repercussions on the efficacy of my higher functions.”

“She means,” Razer said sharply, “it would kill her.”

“Out of the question,” Hal said, shaking his head again and shaking it hard. “I’m not letting anyone in my crew go on some kind of—suicide mission—”

“My apologies, Lantern Jordan,” said Aya, “but this is not your decision to make.”

“Like hell it’s not!” he snapped. “I’m still the captain here—”

“We’ve done ‘em before, Jordan,” said Kilowog. He lifted his head and fixed Hal with a level stare. Weariness pulled his heavy brow down over his eyes. “All of us have. She’s right. You know she is.”

Hal’s jaw tightened.

“By the time we convene with the other Corps, more worlds will have died,” said Aya. “The Anti-Monitor will continue to evade capture or destruction so long as the Manhunters provide a distraction. If I can nullify the threat the Manhunters pose, the Green Lanterns and all the other Lanterns will be free to focus their efforts on the Anti-Monitor. Rationally, this is the correct course of action to take.”

Hal offered no argument to Razer’s stepping forward. His eyes were on the ground, his mouth a pained line, his shoulders weak. Razer pushed past him easily. A particular clarity of purpose had come to Razer. Where Hal struggled yet with his duty and his attachment, Razer found no such conflict.

“And if you die?” he asked Aya as he neared her.

“If I do not take this chance,” she said, steadfast, “then we may all die.”

He drew still before her. Her chin rose. She gazed, unblinking and unflinching, up at him. His breath came chokingly through him, and she was not moved. No. The corners of her eyes pinched fractionally. But she would not move. He knew that. He knew she would not, but he had to try; he had to move her.

“So you would rather give up your life on a chance? The chance,” he stressed, “that you might stop the Manhunters. The chance that we might not defeat them another way.”

“Saint Walker would say, there is always hope,” said Aya.

“All will not be well,” he spat. “If you should die—”

She tipped her head back, defiant. Her shoulders were set; she would not budge.

“It is an acceptable risk.”

“Acceptable!” He looked hotly about, unseeing, and turned to her again. “Acceptable?”

“The benefits outnumber the costs,” she said up to him. The blue of her eyes did not waver. She consumed him.

“And is this what you want?” he demanded of her. “To—to sacrifice yourself on a fool’s errand when I—when we have need of you here? _Is that what you want?_ ”

He’d stepped closer, and then closer again, till they were nearly touching. His hands rose; they faltered at her sides. He thought again, as he had thought many times, of holding her to his chest, of feeling that cool metal and smooth construct against him. All he desired was to hold her. All he wished was to love. Flames roiled in his vision; the ring, that damned artifact of Atrocitus, would not calm. And Aya was there. Aya with her mouth pinched and her eyelashes imperfect lines, so very ready to die. His breath burned his throat.

Aya lifted her hand. Her fingers, so thin, settled on his cheek. The rounded bulk of her hand parted the fire. She looked at him again, studied his eyes, his brow, his scars.

“What I want,” said Aya, “is irrelevant.”

Her fingers began to slip from him. Razer closed his eyes and caught her arm; he held her hand to his face another moment, hunting for the slight pressure of her fingertips against the old scar tissue that dissected his cheek.

“Aya,” said Hal.

To Razer, to all of them, she said, “What any of us want is irrelevant.”

Her hand was cold on his burning face. He wanted to keep her touch there till all the fire had gone out of him, till they were both of them, together, cooled and at rest.

He opened his eyes. Aya remained. He stroked his thumb down the back of her hand. Did she even feel it? It didn’t matter. Her lips were soft; they parted, as if to speak, and then firmed again. The nebula had passed her. She glowed, even so.

“I will accompany you,” said Razer.

“You do not need to,” said Aya. “I have already completed most of the subroutines for the virus.”

“We’ll all go with you,” said Kilowog. He lumbered over to them.

Aya lifted her face to all of them. There was something young and grateful in her face. This was her family, after all.

Hal smiled and cupped her shoulder. “You didn’t think we’d let you do this on your own.”

She shook her head. “No. The risk is too great. The Manhunters would recognize the Interceptor, and the Corps has need of you and this ship.”

“So, what?” Hal spread his hands wide. “We’re supposed to just leave you behind?”

“Yes,” said Aya simply. She withdrew her hand. Razer followed, clinging to her touch.“There’s no need for any of you to put yourselves at risk.”

“Oh, there’s need, all right,” said Kilowog. Energy was returning to him; through loss, the drill sergeant’s protective streak persevered. “You’re one of us, kid, like it or not. Lanterns never leave one of our own behind.”

“You are too valuable,” she insisted.

“And you are not?” asked Razer piercingly. She turned to him, her eyes brilliant, her aspect disturbed. “You are valuable, Aya. To—all of us.”

She searched him, her mouth frowning just slightly at the edges. There was confusion in her. Razer swallowed; he felt it scrape in his mouth. What hadn’t he said to her? Too many things. Fear had caught his tongue; he had let it.

What was there left to fear now at the end of everything? He held her hand in his own. She had fought for him. She had fought with him. She had saved him, again and again. In the hour of despair, Ghia'ta of the Star Sapphires had looked into his heart and there, found love.

Razer reached for Aya’s other hand. He clasped it dearly. At his touch, she turned her gleaming face up to him.

“To me,” he said, clumsy, the child always, “you are valuable.”

Her gaze was steady. In his hands, her hands were still. She tipped her head, and then, gently, one by one, her fingers tightened about his so that she held him as surely as he held her.

“You are also valuable,” she said to Razer, “to me. That is why I wish for you to stay.”

“If you go,” he said, “then I go.”

Her unlined brow rippled. “I want you to be safe.”

“What you want,” he said, “is irrelevant.”

For a moment she was quiet; then slowly, like the wings of some fragile and beautiful insect opening to show the breadth of their colors, Aya smiled. She was lovely and loved, and in this she glowed so sweetly and so fiercely that, for however fleeting a breath, the uncaring universe contracted to the singular, overflowing point of Aya. He wished he had not been so afraid. He wished many things. Perhaps this was enough.

“I will not forgive you,” said Aya.

“Then don’t,” he said. He, too, smiled. It was a lean smile, he knew, unbeautiful and hard, but Aya brightened for it. “It will mean you have lived.”

Hal cleared his throat. “Oh,” he said, blinking at them. “Don’t mind me. I just wanted to say, well—” He rolled his shoulder, stretching it. “If you’re going, we’re going.”

“The Interceptor will be easily tracked,” Aya reminded him. She still clutched Razer’s hands. Warmth pooled in his chest.

“So you program it to go home or something,” said Kilowog. He glowered at Aya, a ferocious hardness that wasn’t at all. “We ain’t leaving you. I’ve sent too many good recruits off to die by themselves. They deserved better than that. You deserve better.”

“We’ll send the Interceptor to Oa,” said Hal. “And anything else you need us to do, we’ll help you with that.” He set his hand on Aya’s head, and she lifted her face to meet his regard. “You deserve an honor guard. At least we can give you that.”

“We will keep them away from you,” Razer said to Aya. “So that you can safely deliver the virus to the Manhunters.”

“Razer,” said Aya.

“Let us do this for you,” he said. He brought her hands together before him. “Aya. Please.”

“It will not be safe,” she told them.

“Nothing ever is,” said Hal. He smiled lopsidedly. “That’s why you got us.”

Aya squeezed Razer’s fingers lightly, experimentally.

“Then,” she said. “I will be glad for the company.”

“And we will be glad for you,” said Razer.

She looked at him. Aya tipped her head. He looked down to their clasped hands, her fingers green over his scarlet gauntlets.

“I,” he said. “I will be glad for you.”

And he was, then. And later. And at the end as well.


End file.
